To Expect the Unexpected
by Kandakicksass
Summary: PREVIOUSLY DRACO'S LITTLE SECRET. Heavily edited. Harry knew that letting the headmistress put an entirely too intoxicating veela Malfoy into his care was a bad idea. Too bad he wasn't good at listening, even to himself.
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, I'm editing it. Again. Partially because it sucked, partially because it made no sense in the timeline of the books. Jeez, I hate my old stuff.**

Hypothetically, if Draco Malfoy happened to be a veela, it shouldn't be Harry's problem. He'd lived through enough to make it unnecessary to add extra burdens to his already heavily stressed life, and honestly, a blonde eighteen year old exuding phermones on a five-minute cycle really shouldn't have anything to do with him at all.

Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and half the Wizengamot disagreed.

"…so Harry, do you understand your importance in this matter?" the headmistress finished. He looked at her with a flat look, staring head on into her sharp hazel eyes. He shrugged with a sigh, knowing he had no choice in the matter, and his eyes flickered across the room where Malfoy was slumped on the therapist-style bed conjured by McGonagall, shimmering white wings tucked across him like a blanket.

"Not really, but I'm too stupid to refuse, aren't I?" he answered, giving the unconscious veela a dirty look for all the trouble he was causing him. McGonagall seemed to almost sag foreword, massaging the crook of her pointed nose with an almost irritated expression.

"Mr. Potter, only _you _can watch over him. Make sure he gets food, make sure he sleeps—because sometimes veelas make it a habit of forgetting to. No one else is strong enough to fight him if anything happens and only _you _are strong enough to protect him," she ever-so-patiently explained. Harry nodded like he was supposed to, looking back at the still-sleeping Malfoy.

His hair looked even paler that usual and so did his face; his skin had taken on an almost silvery sheen that _glittered _in the right light. His eyes, when open (he'd seen it only once, and the blonde had been reaching at him with a wild gasp at the sight of his face), were perfectly normal, if one ignored the unusually lighter silver-blue pupil. He had slight points to his perfect toothpaste-white teeth, not sharp enough to be called fangs. His nails were five times harder as well, Harry had noted, when he scratched the brunette as he force-fed him the sleeping potion. He was beautiful, Harry supposed grudgingly. Any girl would fall for him in an instant.

"I still maintain Snape put you up to this," he snapped after his careful consideration of the blonde. Snape had been overly excited to give him the information via visit to the Fat Lady—and as he said it, the git had the audacity to smirk at him from his personal painting.

He knew it wasn't the ex-headmaster's fault, though—he knew that the initial order had come from Lucius and his wife, who was getting desperate. After the war, Harry had thought his troubles were over beside going back for seventh year. Everyone had been held back because of the lack of effective schooling the year before, the first-year class larger than normal, and classes were pleasantly ritual, but that was before the blonde's birthday, and everything had gone to hell. Again.

McGonagall threw her hands in the air, exhasperated. "Mr. Potter, you know as well as I do that this is for Mr. Malfoy's own good. Who else can be trusted to look after him? He deserves to be in school, and no one else is strong enough to look after him." Harry groaned, rubbing his face with his left hand.

"I know that," he sighed. "I don't want to, but I know that." Damn his savior heart. He knew that it wasn't his responsibility, knew that he was under no obligation to care for the blonde, but he also knew that Draco would suffer if he didn't.

He didn't have anything against the blonde, not anymore. After the final battle, he'd gotten a quiet apology and an even quieter thank you and one look at Draco's earnest—albeit embarrassed—grey eyes told him that he wasn't just saying it. He accepted it and they'd gone their separate way with the exception of a few half-hearted spats littered in between. It was more for a sense of normalcy, and Harry appreciated it, as well, knowing Malfoy probably felt the same way.

"Mr. Potter. Are you agreeing or not?" McGonagall already knew his answer, he could tell in her deep brown eyes.

"Yes," he answered with a roll of the eyes and walked over to the blonde without hesitation. He'd been introduced to his new room—normally saved specifically for the head boy or girl, hidden at the very top of Gryffindor tower—earlier that evening, before the veela shock. He hadn't been amused when McGonagall had given him that smile and sweetly told him who his roommate was going to be, however. They may have called a truce of sorts, but it didn't mean he wanted to deal with Malfoy day in and day out.

Leaning in to slide his arms under Malfoy's slim body, he wrinkled his nose in half-wonder, half-resentment. He smelled like a combonation of things—some sort of spice, flowers (though he didn't know enough to pinpoint what kind), and what was suspiciously close to honey. He lifted the blonde, instinctively juggling him a bit to get a better hold on the blonde, and was surprised when his wings ruffled before settling again over his arms and the blonde buried his nose in Harry's shoulder. He had a strong urge to drop the boy as he realized just how _warm _he was, and forced himself to ignore it.

Harry strugged, carrying the eighteen-year-old up and down several flights of stairs. He'd always known that Draco was a skinny thing, but after a while his arms got tired and he was honestly considering pulling out his wand and _wingardium leviosa_-ing the blonde to his room. He almost did, moving the set the teen down, but he made such a noise of discontent in his sleep as he barely touched the stone floor that Harry sighed and reasoned that they were nearly there anyway.

It took nearly twenty minutes to lug him there, no thanks to the hundred-fourty pound Slytherin dead weight in his arms, and when he did he took no time in conjuring another bed, though larger and more comfortable than the one in McGonagall's office, and placing the blonde on it, taking care not to jostle him too much. The sleeping potion was strong, but that's just what it was—a sleeping potion, and all it did was induce sleep. With the right amount of noise or discomfort, he could potentially wake and Harry prayed that he didn't accidentally trip onto something or otherwise waken the veela.

He looked around the room after covering the blonde in three decently thick quilts, giving it a good once over. It was okay, for a room—spacey, decorated in not so much red as gold. Part of the room was slowly changing from Gryffindor colors to Slytherin and Harry hoped that would be enough to appease him when he woke; while he knew Draco wouldn't like the situation any more than he did, he didn't need an _especially _bitchy Malfoy on his hands. A bitchy Malfoy was trouble enough.

His eyes went over to the blonde and he frowned as he watched him shiver, even under the quilts. He could recall reading somewhere that veelas, while very warm to the touch, got cold very easily at night and normally needed body heat to stay sufficiently heated. Harry tried not to groan out loud as he remembered that piece of information, moving to quickly change into his pajamas. When he'd done that, he walked over to the blonde and pulled the blankets away, drawing him back into his arms.

Malfoy gladly wrapped his arms around Harry's neck as he was carried to Harry's own king-sized bed, covered in a quilt of his own from Mrs. Weasley and scarlet sheets. He expected them to change to green and was glad when they didn't—he'd nothing against the color, but it was nice to see he took presidence over _something_.

He pulled the sheets back and set him down before re-covering him, sliding in from the other side. In his sleep, he pulled on Harry's shirt and Harry allowed him to draw himself closer, fitting the thin line of his body against the brunette's own. For a while, Draco's shivering calmed slightly though never quite going away and Harry squirmed just a bit closer, rubbing at Malfoy's back in an attempted to manually warm him up. It didn't work, and he threw a hand over his eyes, gritting his teeth.

Sitting up, he pulled off his button-up cotton pajama top, pulling the covers back once more just enough to pull Draco's t-shirt off, wicning when it was ripped entirely off. His wings had proved to be enough of a problem in clothing removal, and they would have to figure something out about that because he couldn't just go around shirtless all the time. It occurred to him shortly thereafter that he could have just magicked the shirt off, and sighed. Another thing for Malfoy to bitch about when he woke up.

He laid back down, letting Malfoy press every availible part of his upper body along Harry's, sliding his feet up Harry's pant leg to warm them at all. He was done shivering, Harry noted with a sigh of thanks to whomever was looking after him.

Harry didn't know just when he'd fallen asleep, Draco's almost uncomfortable presense becoming nothing more than pleasant warmth, but he did know the moment he'd woken, sunlight streaming from a large window on the far side of the room, filtering a healthy-looking glow on them both. Malfoy has moved away ever slightly, though he was still wrapped in Harry's arms, and now lay there with a peaceful expression, breathing slowly.

He let time pass like that for a while, his thumb rubbing circles in Draco's back, until he heard a soft yawn of awakening and looked down to see dark blonde eyelashes flutter open, revealing bleary silver-grey eyes. The blonde opened his mouth in a tiny pink 'o', yawning again, and stretched. Harry just watched with a half-amazed expression, waiting for the blonde to have a heart attack upon seeing him. "G'morning, Potter," he said instead, his voice ringing almost like a bell, more innocent than Harry could ever remember hearing it.

"… Good morning?" he replied, confused as Draco just settled himself against Harry again, resting his head on Harry's chest. He heard him yawn again and was about to suggest he go back to sleep when he felt the blonde start suddenly, shooting up like he'd been electrocuted.

"Potter?"

Okay. _There _it was. He almost sighed in relief as Malfoy finally responded in a way that made sense. Thank god, he mouthed to the ceiling.

Malfoy rubbed his arms, shivering again as he ripped his body from Harry's, his expression confused and surprised. Harry surprised himself by slightly missing the warmth Malfoy had provided, but he quickly quit thinking about it when the blonde glared at him with a Veela edge.

"What'd you do to me, Potter?" he snapped, his voice a bit higher than normal in what Harry couldn't only describe as fear. He groaned, sitting up and giving the blonde a dirty look as he gestured toward his very visible pants. Draco glanced down, then at himself, but his scowl didn't go away. "What. Did. You. Do?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"I totally raped you," he snapped back. "With your pants on. Definitely. That will show your pants to get in the way again." His sarcasm had Draco coloring slightly. "Just go look in the mirror, veela boy, before you attempt to accuse me of things." He blinked and looked down at his skin again before sliding out of bed and padding over to the mirror Harry had gestured toward.

"Damn!" he moaned when he caught sight of the wings before examining every inch of his reflection. "This was _so _not supposed to happen…" He rolled his eyes at his dramatics; of course he'd known it would, but Harry couldn't quite bring himself to blame the boy; he'd gone from wizard to creature in the span of a day. "And why the hell am I half-naked?" The glare was back. Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Because you were shivering," he answered simply, as calmly as he could. "That's why. I'm sure you know why—" But he never finished because Draco had leaned toward him, closing his eyes and taking a deep whiff of the air. His eyes opened again and Harry noted that they were blazing.

He didn't like the look the blonde was giving him as he walked back over, his entire body stiff, his gait slow. Malfoy reached him, leaning in closer, his enticing grey eyes just centimeters away. Harry was frozen, unable to move as he noticed that all anger had been wiped from the blonde's face and he was starting in wonder. "Your eyes are so _pretty_," he murmured, a hand coming up to stroke the side of his face. Harry winced, trying not to lean into the hand and ignore the way his pants tightened marginally. "And you smell…" He listened as Malfoy made a little noise from the back of his throat, closing his eyes and inhaling. "…delicious."

Somewhere, in between one coherent thought and another semi-coherent one, Malfoy's hand had discovered the source of his squirming and he made another noise that sounded almost like keening. Harry watched in frozen shock as Malfoy's pupils dilated, leaving only a grey ring around molten silver.

A strange, strangled half-groan forced its way past Harry's lips as Malfoy's hand cupped his erection, teasing it to full hardness with slow carresses and quick, almost indiscernible squeezes.

He gulped, trying to force his vocal cords to work again, but Draco's expression took his breath away… almost literally. He wished he could say he was immune to Malfoy's veela phermones, but it simply wasn't true. "You smell so good when you're aroused," Draco whispered, leaning in and letting his tongue flicker out to swipe along his lower lip. Harry almost pushed him away but Draco let out a desperate little groan and molded their lips together, his hand working in a fervent rhythm, his other hand quickly becoming tangled in Harry's hair. "God, you—" He didn't finish right away because he'd kissed him _again_, harder, almost desperately. "_Taste so good_…"

Harry gasped, rocking up into Draco's hand against his will, but that one action of assent (willing or not) surprised Draco enough to gain control over the veela in him trying to take control.

"Harry… I… _no_!"

Malfoy had flown—literally—across the room, pressed against the wall. He was panting, trying to sneer at Harry and failing, his too-pale cheeks flushed dark red. "Why'd you let me—" He almost collapsed back onto the bed, his breath coming out in awkward little gasps as he tried to reign in his own lust.

"I didn't mean to," Harry managed while his heart rate slowed… at a much slower pace than he liked. He could still feel it thrum in his chest from the strain. "I'm sure you know all about your veela charm." He tried to be sarcastic, but it came out more breathless than anything. Draco let out another little moan and—still pressed against the wall, for the most part—dipped his head forward, inhaling again.

"Oh my god," Draco choked, his pupils still dilated so prettily, Harry had a hard time staying away from him. "I just… you smelled so…" His words were lost in the most beautiful, needy sound Harry had ever heard in his life. "I'm sorry." His voice had dropped to a whisper. "I couldn't control myself. I don't know why."

"Didn't your dad ever explain it to you?" Harry asked, scandalized at the thought of Draco being completely ignorant of the main part of his coming-to-age. Draco shook his head mutely.

"Not about this," he answered, his voice a little raw. "Not about this… god, will it be like this with _everyone_?"

Harry frowned, biting his lip. "No, at least—I didn't think so. I'm not exactly sure why you're reacting like this now, actually. Technically, it's everyone else who's supposed to react like this, not you."

Draco snorted, but it was weak. "Were you affected, Potter?" Harry thought the answer was pretty obvious—he took a look down as an indication. "Um… stupid question." Draco took a shaky breath, wincing when the air tainted with the scent of Harry's arousal hit him once more. Harry tried not to watch as Draco's own erection grew only slightly, a bulge in his nice school slacks that were now creased from over-night wear. "Do you know why I feel like this?" he asked instead, blushing from embarrassment and shame.

But Harry didn't quite feel amused by Draco's embarrasment because he was embarrassed as well—especially because he now had to explain the concept of veela mating to the teenager who had once been his arch-nemesis. "Well, yes, but—"

"Tell me." Draco's voice was flat, though it wavered slightly. Harry sighed.

"Veela technically have a 'mating system', which I'm sure you'd figured out." Draco nodded. "It's the most important part of coming into your inheritance, really, mating. Which is why I'm confused. You need to find your mate, but McGonagall and your dad said you have to stay with me for the first month or so, and that I can't let you out for classes or anything. Maybe they're trying to figure out who it is, or something."

"So you think the reason that I attacked you just now is because I need my mate?"

Harry nodded. "Maybe you just attack everyone until you're properly mated, and after that you won't be affected by normal people anymore." He shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it, so long as we avoid being around each other…" He glanced down again. "… in this condition." Draco nodded sharply. "Until you get taken, of course, then you'll probably be out of here, anyway."

Draco blushed a little deeper, his knees buckling and he slid to the floor, his hands trembling. "Taken?" he squeaked. "What makes you think I'm the one getting taken?" Harry raised an eyebrow; it had to be obvious to Draco that he had developed into a submissive veela, though alarmingly rare. Most male veela were dominant, meant for taking either females or other less dominant men, but Draco, apparently, wasn't. Harry knew this for a fact; he'd seen enough dominant veela—like Draco's father, for instance, when Harry had initially refused to take care of the blonde.

He hoped to never piss off Lucius Malfoy again.

Draco didn't argue the point, knowing that Harry's expression was enough to answer his question, but he didn't move. "I really have to get taken?" he asked miserably after a minute or so.

Harry nodded, slowly backing up just the slightest bit as those big silver eyes almost manipulated him into going over and fucking the blonde raw. "Taken."

**I'm seperating this into two parts simply to make it easier on myself to edit them. I hope you're enjoying this a bit more than before, and if you haven't read it before—enjoying it, period!**

**Kandakicksass**


	2. Chapter 2

**The second half of this (heavily edited) story. Please enjoy!**

"That was extremely unnecessary, Malfoy."

Harry rubbed the bruise just below his eye, a disgruntled expression directed at the blonde. He'd had an unfortunate encounter with Malfoy's fist after a rather detailed description of the mating. Really, he'd only wanted to help, so that maybe the blonde wouldn't be so shocked when it came down to it, but he admitted that he might've had an ulterior motive in pissing Draco off. Or maybe just embarrassing him further, he hadn't decided yet; he just knew that it was fun to antagonize the blonde. Still, he probably wouldn't be indulging in that hobby much more. Draco's punches packed quite a bit of punch.

"Oh, yes, unnecessary, you pervert," Draco seethed, his cheeks still slightly pink, sitting with his knees up to his chest in an attempt to hide his harder-than-ever arousal. Harry didn't blame him; he himself felt quite exposed sitting there on the edge of his bed the way he was. Besides which, it was kind of starting to hurt.

"I'm sorry?" Harry offered. "Just trying to have a bit of fun. You looked so miserable over there, I thought a lovely description of your ass would brighten your day a bit." Draco rolled his eyes, but he _did _seem a bit less broody. "I was joking, for the most part."

"The most part," Draco repeated disbelievingly and Harry had to smirk just a little bit.

"Why, you innocent little thing," Harry snickered. "Yeah, a bit. The bit about you growing a vagina? That was a complete joke. I don't think that's possible, in any type of creature." Draco blushed a bit again, but didn't move to hit Harry again, which the brunette considered a good thing.

"Well, I knew _that _was bullshit," Draco sniffed. "I also don't think I'm going to grow tits, either, if you're about to tack that on." Harry almost laughed at the return of Draco's wit, but as it was, he did laugh at what he said.

"I wasn't going to, but now that I think about it, it would be kind of funny," he teased and Draco rolled his eyes, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of his eyes. "Don't think of it as such a bad thing, though. I mean, c'mon, it could be a lot worse. It could be _me_."

Draco's glare was enough to kill anyone, and Harry thanked the lord that it didn't. It would have really sucked to make it through that punch only to die from a glare.

"But, hey, Malfoy, don't worry about it," he said quickly, though he couldn't help snickering some more at Malfoy's reaction. "It doesn't have to be me, after all. Just find a reasonably good-looking bloke who has a kink for veela and you'll be good," he suggested, still chuckling slightly. He gave the brunette a flat expression and Harry just smiled. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth, that you have to go through this.

"Just call me Draco."

Harry looked at him in surprise, and the blonde happened to look up from the hem of his slacks to see Harry's gob smacked expression. "'Malfoy' reminds me too much of my father," he muttered. "Love him and all that, but…" He made a face. "Let's say I'm my own person and leave it at that.

"Okay…" he said slowly before grinning. "Then call me Harry. And could you do me the favor and get rid of the 'Potter Stinks' badges?"

Draco surprised him again by giving him a wide, easy smile. "You couldn't pay me enough to get rid of them, rubbish or not!" His eyes glittered with good humor and Harry sighed in relief as the mood turned to a much lighter air. "It's far easier to tease you with a flick of a badge than pulling something witty out of my repertoire, no matter how vast it is, after all." Harry snorted, but his grin stayed.

"I still don't see why you have so much fun teasing me, though," Harry said with a curious expression. "It doesn't improve your reputation or anything. Just seems like a heap of fun to you, and I don't get it."

"How else should I react around the Golden Boy?" he said with a haughty look. "Do you expect me to suck up to you? You couldn't pay me enough to become another Potter-obsessed bint." Harry laughed at the way he put it, admitting that it may have been more or less true; he had more than enough fans after the war that it had gotten a little ridiculous. "And after I completely fucked up the chance to be friends with you by insulting Hagrid at Madam Malkin's… I didn't see anyway to keep your attention." He shrugged.

Harry stared at him, astounded. What had this whole veela thing done to the blonde? Had he really just admitted to wanting to be friends… and was it just him or was that _regret_ in his voice? Draco looked up at him timidly. "You didn't completely fuck up the chance to be friends," he managed to say without sounding like he'd just been jolted with a taser. "All you had to do is apologize, though it seems a bit late now."

"I'm sorry?" All right, that was the second time he'd heard Malfoy apologize, and this was just as sincere as the first time, though a little less downcast. "I just… I suppose I was trying to impress you. I only knew what father had told me, then… never my own opinions, or my own ideas. I was only eleven."

Harry shrugged, still a bit stunned. "That's why I'm saying it's fine. I appreciate the apology and all."

Draco was quiet for a few minutes more before he sighed and blurted out, "So, are we friends now?" When Harry didn't answer right away, he added, "We could at least try to be, you know."

Harry nodded, positive that the talk of their history had calmed his erection down enough (thankfully, it was barely noticeable now), and walked over, extending a hand to the blonde, who took it with awe in his eyes.

"Friends."

*(A week later)*

"_Harry!_"

Hermione didn't react to hearing Draco's voice, but that was probably because she looked like she was already under the influence of a body-bind with her stiff posture and deer-in-the-headlights expression. Ron, next to her with an arm around her shoulders, was appeared to be hyperventilating.

"See, veela," Harry attempted with a weak smile. "Never heard him sound more inhuman, right? And all of his stuff got brought up, so it's kind of a permanent thing, I think… not that there's much of school left anyway, of course…" He wanted to groan at his own stupidity. He wasn't sure if his friends were going to make it through the shock.

"Harry! Can I _please _come out now, you sodding jailer?" Harry growled, sending the door to his room a dark look. Was the blonde incapable of shutting up for _five minutes_? Apparently not, because there was another whine of his name in the typical Draco fashion.

"Draco, did I not say 'wait until I get them calmed down'?" He was under the impression he had, several times, actually. "Why must you always—"

"Don't give me that—do you have any idea how _cramped _it is in here, you buffoon? I feel completely stifled!"

"It's huge!" Harry called back. "How in the name of Merlin do you feel _cramped_?"

"You try living in here twenty-four hours a day, seven days a _bloody_ week, and see if you wouldn't like to venture outside once and a while!" Draco snapped and banged on the door again.

Harry threw his hands in the air in exasperation, casting a silent _alohamora _at the door, hearing the click as it unlocked. "Well? Come on, you git. You're driving me mad bitching up there!"

It took less than a second for Draco to burst out, the door hitting the wall with a _bang _that he ignored studiously. He grinned at Harry with a smug expression. "I knew I could wear you down," he crowed in his musical voice and Hermione's eyes flew from her brunette friend to Draco, becoming animated only long enough to form her features in a way that made perfectly obvious how taken aback she was. Ron was still trying to control his breathing, however.

Harry hated to admit it, but Draco had gotten even more gorgeous in the last week. His pale, silver-gold hair had grown to his shoulders, which I tied for him every morning in a tight rubber band because he was either to lazy to do himself, or because he liked people playing with his hair too much to pass up the opportunity. Harry figured it was a mixture of the two, and did it without complaint. His eyes had gotten larger, ever so slightly, in a way that made them even more mesmerizing, as if he needed them to be intoxicating, which he certainly did _not_. His appearance—shirtless, dressed only in a pair of jeans stolen from Harry's closet—probably didn't help matters, overly exposed from waist up, silvery skin shimmering as the light hit it. His wings had grown out, still not quite big enough to hold him in the air, but large enough that they easily caught his friend's attention without trying.

Draco walked over calmly, though his limbs were twitching slightly in a way that made Harry perfectly aware of how elated he was to be out of their room and took the seat next to Harry on the cough, grinning at him. The brunette gave him an annoyed look but Draco just laughed at him and said, "It's good to be free, Harry."

"The house elves haven't put anything in your food, have they?" Harry asked scathingly, a bit put out by his unusually good mood. He squirmed, winding up with his head on the brunette's lap as he played with the ponytail that fell over his shoulders, his eyes meeting Harry's. Harry found it difficult to be irritated with him when he was so cheery, those grey eyes filled with mirth.

"I wouldn't know," Draco laughed. "Maybe I'm just hyper from being _free_." He said the word dramatically and with the arm not trapped between his body and the cough, made a wide sweeping gesture toward the common room facing them. "Not that this is better. Too Gryffindor."

Harry laughed. "That's a bit of a relief; I thought he'd killed the real Malfoy," he said to Ron in an attempted to bring him out of whatever funk Harry had unintentionally put him into. Draco just snorted and sat up.

"You act like you'd _prefer _it if I were a complete asshole to you," he accused playfully, smacking the brunette on the shoulder lightly. Harry just laughed at him, making the blonde join in after a second of sulking.

Hermione appeared to have melted from her ice sculpture imitation, her calculating gaze on the two of them for a mere moment before a smile turned her lips upward smugly. Harry noticed the smile, though for the life of him couldn't figure out what had brought it on. He didn't have time to bring it up before Draco yawned loudly, sitting up and resting his head on the brunette's shoulder.

"Harry, I'm tired." Of course he was—but then, Harry didn't blame him. He hadn't slept much the night before, excited about Harry's plans to tell his friends and therefore, give him a bit more freedom from their bedroom, and it was rather late besides, after dinner.

Harry nodded, turning to his friends to say goodnight. Draco couldn't sleep alone without the help of a potion, and Madam Pomfrey had told him excessive use of the potion was probably a bad idea. He didn't mind, really; Draco had a schedule very similar to his own, and besides which, sleeping next to Draco was a pleasant experience. He always got the sleep much quicker when the blonde was with him.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," he said to Hermione—who was _still _smirking—and Ron, who was choking again. Harry took hold of Draco's upper arm to get him upright, then slid an arm over his shoulders, letting him lean against the brunette's body. When he got tired, he_ crashed_, and wouldn't tell Harry he was tired until he was close to the point of falling asleep on his feet.

Harry ended up carrying the far lazier blonde into their room, setting him down on the edge of the bed and snagging the jeans he kicked off and tossing them into a laundry basket the elves had given them. The pants disappeared immediately before reappearing on top of the dresser, folded and clean.

In only his boxers, which he'd taken in sleeping in, Draco slid under the covers, looking up at the brunette with a little yawn, who was still undressing until he stood in a pair of black boxers himself.

"C'mon, Harry, cold little veela here," he whined from the bed. Harry rolled his eyes, tossing his own clothes into the hamper and walked over, getting under the covers quickly enough. Draco latched onto him, practically curling up on his chest.

"Hm… Haaaary…"

"Draco, I thought you wanted to sleep."

Draco pouted at him, resting his chin on Harry's chest as he looked up at the brunette. "I want to sleep _and _talk. You realize we haven't really talked about anything except classes and how we're going to tell your friends about me. I barely know anything about you." _We're_… Harry decided he liked that more than he probably should.

"Draco, what could you possibly want to know? Besides the fact that I'm three inches taller than you and that I've defeated Voldemort, which I assume you're already quite aware of." He giggled a bit, resting his body against Harry's, which wasn't much of a problem. It had been an unexpected growth spurt that had put him at a surprising six foot as opposed to Draco's five-eleven, but a welcome one.

"What do you like to do?" he asked contentedly and Harry thought about it.

"Wizard chess," he answered, shrugging. "Going to Hogsmead. Lately, pissing you off." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Favorite singer?"

"The Beatles, actually," he replied. "I don't know what it is about them, but their music is great."

"But they're muggles!" Draco protested.

"So?" Harry said with a roll of the eyes. "They have good music, and that's all that matters to me. Have you even listened to them before?" Draco sulked, which was hard to do with every ridge of his body pressed against Harry's own.

"Music playlist on your iPod?" Draco asked, changing the subject. He'd gotten one from Draco as a Christmas present, which just _happened _to fall in the middle of their confinement. It had surprised him, seeing as normally Draco was completely opposed to muggle technology.

"I dunno. Maybe the one you made for me. I was surprised to find I actually _like _all the music on there."

"Favorite Actor?"

He laughed. "I don't think I've ever watched enough TV to _have _a favorite actor," he answered, making the blonde chuckle. "If I did, though, he'd be one of those stupid-funny blokes, though. They always crack me up." Draco really laughed then, saying something about how he 'should have known'.

"I really like you, Harry," Draco exclaimed before he blushed realizing what he had said and pulled away a bit, clapping his hand over his mouth, his ivory cheeks turning crimson. "I mean—like a f-friend, of _course _I don't—"

It was a split-second decision, one that Harry was pretty sure took the both of them off guard. He reached down, pulling Draco up his body and claimed his lips quickly and without hesitation. Draco was stock-still for a second before he realized what was happening and relaxed into Harry's chest, moaning as he opened his mouth to Harry's questioning tongue.

Harry couldn't explain what had possessed him to do what he had—it wasn't purely lust, but it was more backed by a _need_. Hearing that Draco had even the vaguest of interests in him took him off guard, released his inner desires, things he'd been contemplating since that first night.

"Harry," he gasped as the brunette rolled on top of him, their groins in contact for the first time in a sexual way and somehow Draco squirmed enough to free his legs sliding them over Harry's hips and locking them behind his back, his arms sliding up to lock in a similar fashion behind Harry's head. "Oh, god," he breathed as Harry's lips moved to his neck, licking a stripe up the pale, glimmering column before kissing down it and settling at a spot just under his ear, sucking hard.

"_Harry_," Draco groaned, bucking his hips against Harry's in a way that made him growl from the back of his throat in need. "_Harry!_" One calloused finger pressed against the blonde's entrance through his boxers, making him cry out in surprise. Harry, too, was surprised to find the area wet, the small hole twitching eagerly. A smirk curved his lips upward.

"My, my," Harry whispered against the hollow of his throat. "I never guessed being a veela would be so useful. Can you _feel _how wet you are? And so quickly." If he'd been thinking rationally, he might have been surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

"_Oh, god_," Draco gasped as Harry slid a finger into his boxers, pressing the tip of it into his entrance slowly. He smiled as Draco's breath came out a little bit heavier. The blonde whined as Harry pulled away enough to slide Draco's boxer's off, then his own, the sight making Draco groan all on it's own.

Draco re-wrapped his legs around Harry's waist as that finger was back, pressing into him more fully, finding little restraint in its way, though Harry was pleased to find that though unresisting, Draco's passage was tight… and eager, as it sucked in yet another finger.

Draco moaned, though Harry was sure it had to be a little uncomfortable. It didn't seem to matter, though, as Harry searched for that little button_—_

"_Harry_!" There it was, he thought smugly, and while he was distracted, he entered the third finger. Still, Draco didn't really seem to notice.

"Now?" he whispered against Draco's jaw and the blonde nodded desperately.

"Please, Harry, please," he pleaded, placing small kisses all over his face. "Please…" Harry wondered vaguely if Draco would always be such a vocal lover and decided that if they stayed together (he felt selfish for wishing that Draco's mate never be found), he hoped that Draco would be. The Malfoy's pretty little noises were turning him on further, to be honest—even the short scream Draco let out when he pushed his entire length inside the warm, dripping cavern that had been calling to him since his finger had found it.

He had repositioned them, his hands pushing Draco's knees against his chest as he ground into him, making the blonde gasp ever _so loudly_, almost sobbing in relief. "God, need you, need _more_," Draco babbled, almost incoherent, and Harry happily obliged, setting a quick pace that had them both on the edge.

Harry wasn't surprised or ashamed when he came not five minutes later because it was shortly preceded by a hoarse cry from Draco as the blonde came messily, all over their stomachs. To stifle his own cry, he bit down lightly on Draco's neck. Exhausted, he pulled out and flopped down next to the blonde to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "That was totally out of nowhere."

"Don't be," Draco whispered, curling up into Harry's side, pressing his lips into the brunette's shoulder. Harry just smiled against the blonde's temple and stroked his hair until they both fell asleep.

*(the next morning)*

"Bloody hell."

He sat up at the shocked exclamation, wincing as his still-tired body protested. He looked over to find that Draco was sitting up as well… but strangely enough, under the covers.

"Draco, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to pull the sheets off of the blonde who resisted and continued to do so for several minutes before Harry finally succeeded in ripping them away. He sat back on his ass in shock at what he saw.

Draco sat there miserably, his hair grown long enough to hang around his waist, his grey eyes staring up at him. He was obviously upset and his wings, which ruffled behind him as if to say 'look at me', had grown at least another foot. His hair was still visibly growing and his skin flashed from its recent silvery sheen to the ivory he was used to, then back again.

"Harry, what do I do?" he cried, distressed. Reaching out with no clue what to do for him, Harry cupped his face and the minute their skin touched, everything settled.

With a bright flash of light, his skin settled on its pale cream, utterly normal, all hints of its recent silvery hue gone. His wings were gone, his silver eyes returning to a soft grey. His white-blonde hair remained long, but then again, not much had changed about it, anyway, beside the growth.

"I think…"

"That you are finally a fully adult veela, able to use glamours—congratulations, Mr. Malfoy."

Both teenagers jumped, heads whipping around to face Professor McGonagall, who stood leaning against the wall with a curious expression. Blushing, the both pulled the sheet up to cover them and the woman rolled her eyes.

"Professor!" Harry said quickly. "What happened, do you know?" Roughly translated, it was obvious his question meant, _explain! Now!_

McGonagall snorted at them. "I do believe it's quite obvious, though it was necessary to hide at the time, before you start complaining. You, Mr. Potter…" She gestured to the two of them. "Happen to be Mr. Malfoy's mate."

Harry sighed. At this point, it was better to just expect the unexpected because it all seemed to be coming true lately. Harry eyed Draco, whose ears had turned red. "And why didn't you tell me?" Draco cried. "Wouldn't that have been good information for me to have?"

"Or me," Harry added, nudging Draco in the ribs, who nodded without really looking at him.

McGonagall threw her hands in the air. "Do you really think you could have not strangled each other right away if we'd told you?" she asked incredulously. "Besides which, it's always better to let mating relationships work out on their own. It saves us the trouble of dealing with it when the two deny it and don't let anything happen before it can even begin." She gave them a look that told them not to argue and they didn't, though Harry rolled his eyes, his arms coming to wrap around Draco loosely.

"Whatever." She looked slightly irritated at Harry's muttered response, but her expression softened when she noticed Harry kiss the back of Draco's neck softly.

"I'm leaving," she announced when she noticed a hand moving under the sheets. "But keep in mind. I expect you both back in class today."

They both groaned and she left with a smirk, considering the whole ordeal successful.

"Do you mind, Harry," Draco asked quietly when she left. "That you're my mate?" He tacked on the last part when Harry gave him a confused look, but at his addition, Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're so paranoid," he said, leaning down to whisper the words against his lips. "No. I don't mind. As a matter of fact… I'm glad it's me. I might've had to kill whoever really was if it wasn't."

Draco smiled, and pulled him in for a kiss.

**It's not my best work, but I do think it's pretty good—at the very least, a damn sight better than it used to be! I hope you all enjoyed it!**

**Kandakicksass**


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